Mother's Day
by EHfan
Summary: Rachel and Jacob travel to Florida to break the news of their marriage and impending parenthood to Rachel's father. But once again, the visit is interrupted by a case.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is set almost a year after "Father's Day" and between the first and second chapters of "Babies and Blackmailers." I want to thank my friend Lattelady who suggested I write a few stories that feature a pregnant Rachel.

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"This has to be the worst idea you've ever had," Rachel grumbled as she carefully steered the SUV along the narrow causeway to Sanibel Island.

"What?" Jacob inquired, slightly annoyed by her tone. "Sweetheart, we agreed this was the best way, we needed to break the news to your father in person."

Rachel winced inwardly as she glanced in the rear view mirror at their passenger. She still wasn't completely used to Jacob calling her that in public. She sighed, there were a lot of things she was going to have to get used to. "I know, I know, we really do owe him the courtesy of telling him in person, but still…"

"Ma'am, are you sure you need me to come along?" Special Agent Terrance Mason piped up from the back seat. "I mean, since this is a personal visit? Couldn't I have waited for you two in Fort Myers?" _'Or better yet, back in D.C.?'_

Rachel wanted to turn and glare at the young man but the heavy traffic prevented it. She contented herself with using the iciest tone she could manage. "Just what part of being a member of the EPD, of being a bodyguard, don't you understand? I would have expected Detail Chief McGruder to have explained your duties to you. You are to stay with your protectee 24/7 damned near 365."

"Besides," Jacob said with a hint of laughter in his voice, "if Rachel is right about her dad, I might need a bodyguard."

Rachel _was_ able to shoot a glare at Jacob.

He smiled at her in return. "Come on Rachel, it's almost Mother's Day, surely he'll want to celebrate the fact you're going to be a mother with you."

When Rachel merely snorted at this, Jacob shook his head, sighed, and turned to look out the window.

Terrance sat back with a puzzled expression. He was the youngest of five siblings, three older sisters and a brother. All of them were married and had kids. In his family, in his experience, marriages and babies were things to celebrate. He honestly couldn't see what SAC Young, _'no, this is a personal visit, so it's Mrs. Hood'_ was so worried about. Sure, her dad might be pissed off they had kept their marriage a secret for so long, but geez, how mad could he be? Remembering how his dad had quizzed his sister's various boyfriends he didn't think SAC, no, Mrs. Hood's dad had anything to complain about. Dr. Hood was a great guy, had a good job, and was crazy in love with his wife.

Terrance blushed faintly as he recalled just _how_ crazy in love with his wife Dr. Hood was. He had been on the detail for a week when they were called out of town. They were only gone three days; when they got back to D.C. Dr. Hood insisted they head straight to SAC Young's office before reporting in to the Director. Dr. Hood had blown by SAC Young's admin and closed the office door firmly. He had only been in there for five minutes before Terrance's cell phone began buzzing. It was the Director and he wanted to know where the hell his Special Science Advisor was. Terrance _had_ knocked before opening the door but he was still confronted by the sight of SAC Young, blouse untucked, hair disarranged, being kissed passionately by Dr. Hood. Terrance still blanched at the thought of what he might have interrupted if the Director had called ten minutes later.

A short time later they pulled up in front of a Spanish-style bungalow. Terrance blew out his breath faintly. This was the only part of his job he disliked. It was one thing to know you had to shadow someone 24/7 and as Mrs. Hood pointed out damn near 365. It was another to have to stand discreetly in the background as someone else's family drama played out. He sent up a quick prayer that Mrs. Hood was mistaken and that her father would welcome his new son-in-law and prospective grandchild with pleasure.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jonathan Young's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the young agent who exited the rear of the SUV. He wondered what happened to Lee. Since her visit the previous year, he and Rachel had reached a bit of a …détente in their relationship. While she was calling a bit more frequently this was her first visit in a year.

"Rachel, Dr. Hood," he nodded to them. "Good to see you." He raised an eyebrow, "Just happen to be in the area?"

He had been surprised when Rachel called the day before to see if he would be available for a quick visit. She hadn't said much during the call, only that she had some news. He wondered if it meant she had accepted a promotion, been transferred from the EPD, maybe back to Counter-Terrorism. He got the impression this was going to be a personal visit. When the SUV had pulled up and he saw the others, he felt a flicker of disappointment. Surely her news wasn't that she had been given a new trainee.

Rachel kissed her father on the cheek. "Ah, no, I wanted to see you." She motioned to Terrance. "Umm…this is Special Agent Terrance Mason."

Nodding at the introduction, Young motioned for them to come in. Soon they were seated in the living room, Young looking at his daughter quizzically, wondering at her obvious discomfort. After the initial pleasantries, an awkward silence descended.

"So, Rachel, you said you had some news for me?" he father asked lightly.

"Umm …. yes…" Rachel looked at Jacob, eyes wide. He smiled at her encouragingly. Rachel turned back to her father. "It's just … umm … I'm pregnant," she blurted out.

For a split second Jonathan Young starred at his daughter, his mouth hanging open. Then he exploded. "You're pregnant?" He jerked his head in Jacob's direction, "I can guess who's to blame for this. Goddamnit, how could you be so stupid?" He gestured toward Terrance, "and him, he's not your new trainee, he's your replacement isn't he? You got yourself thrown out on your ass, like some stupid fucking incompetent. I can't believe it, you violated your oath, gave up everything you worked for …"

Jacob intervened, "Really, Mr. Young, I think…."

Young turned his fury onto Jacob. "You, you goddamned bastard. You son of a bitch. You stood here last year and promised me you wouldn't do anything to hurt my daughter. I guess you don't think her career being ruined is hurting her? Or is the privilege of carrying your bastard child supposed to make up for destroying her reputation, her life's work?"

Rachel who been sitting white-faced through her father's tirade stood abruptly, hands clenched at her side. "Fuck you. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. How _dare_ you talk to me, talk to Jacob like that? You're the bastard, not Jacob. I tell you I'm pregnant and you don't ask if I'm ok, if I'm happy, nothing. All you care about is your old FBI buddies finding out your daughter screwed the pooch and got herself tossed out of the Bureau. So fuck you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go throw up and then we are leaving."

Rachel turned toward the hallway. Jacob stood and reached for her. Blinking back her tears, she shook her head. He watched her hurry to the bathroom. When she slammed the down behind her, he sighed and turned to Terrance.

"Terrance, I've got some cans of ginger ale in my duffle. Could you please go out and get me one?"

Nodding, Terrace left the room but not before shooting a look full of dislike at Young. As soon as he was safely out of the house, Jacob swung back to face Rachel's father, furious.

"Bastard!" he spat out. "Rachel told me you wouldn't take our news well but I never expected to hear the kind of venom you were spewing. What in the hell is wrong with you? This is your _daughter_, don't you care about her at all? He sniffed disdainfully, "You're acting like the world's falling apart. Damnit, she's not some scared sixteen year old who made a mistake. She's a grown woman here to tell you she's found someone to share her life and we're starting a family."

Young returned the glare. "Yeah? Well, from where I'm sitting she might as well be sixteen and knocked up. She's looking at a future as an unwed mother with no job, and thanks to you, limited prospects. Rachel had a good job, a real future at the Bureau before she met you. Now what? She's…."

Jacob interrupted him. "You really take the cake. Rachel's right, she tells you she's having a baby, that _you're_ going to be a grandfather and all you care about is what this means to her work at the Bureau. You don't want to know if she's happy," Jacob shot a worried look at the still closed bathroom door, "or even if she's healthy."

"What, is something wrong? I mean…" he swallowed, took a deep breath. "When she said she was going to throw up, I thought, I mean," he looked toward the bathroom, "I thought she was being dramatic." He frowned at Jacob. "Is she ok, is everything all right?"

"She's been having these bouts of nausea, instead of morning sickness, she has afternoon sickness." Jacob frowned, "and she's not facing the future as an unwed mother. We…"

"What? You're gonna do the decent thing? Stand by her? Never occur to you that maybe it'd have been a good idea to have the wedding before the baptism? Or is that to old fashioned for you?"

Jacob looked at the man puzzled. "Baptism? What are you talking about? Why would we bother with that nonsense?"

"It's not nonsense." Rachel reentered the room, unnoticed by either man. "Why are you even talking to him? We need to leave. Now."

"Not just yet." Jacob took Rachel by the arm and led her back to the sofa. Still shaky from vomiting, she sat with evident relief, closing her eyes as she leaned back. Terrance returned with a can of ginger ale. He handed the can to Jacob who immediate cracked it open.

"Here, drink this, it will help settle your stomach."

Young hovered nearby a look of indecision on his face. "Ah, would you like a glass, some ice?"

Jacob shook his head. "No, actually warm ginger ale works best."

"I think there're some crackers in the car, would you like me to get them for you Mrs. Hood?" Terrance asked.

Young's eyebrows rose, _"Mrs. Hood?' _"So you've already gotten married?"

"No, thanks Terrance, I'm ok now." Rachel glared at her father. "We've _been _married, not that it's any of your business." Finishing the last of the ginger ale, she stood up, "We can leave now; I'm fine."

Jacob looked unhappy but before he could say anything doorbell rang. Terrance caught Young by the sleeve as the man headed toward the door. "I think it would be best if I got this sir."

With his hand hovering near his weapon, he carefully opened the door. "Felix?" He fell back surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey Terrance," said Felix. He entered the house followed hesitantly by another man. "Sorry to barge in on your family reunion Doc, but something's come up." He pointed to the man accompanying him. "This is Dr. Daniel Morris, from the CDC. He's been in Tampa looking into an outbreak and he called the Bureau to ask for your help."

"When I called they told me you were on personal leave," Dr. Morris broke in, "after they told me you were actually in the area, I thought, it was almost like answer to a prayer." He looked at Jacob earnestly, "I really need your help Dr. Hood."

Jacob and Rachel exchanged dismayed looks. After a second Rachel nodded and sank back on the sofa, a resigned look on her face.

"I'm happy to do what I can," Jacob said, "but," he shot a worried look at Rachel, "I can't promise to devote my entire attention to your problem."

Morris nodded, "I'm sure you've read, heard about the recent outbreaks of a retrovirus in various parts of the country? Well the one here has the earmarks of becoming a pandemic."

"A pandemic? Are you sure? From what I've heard, read, those outbreaks have been pretty limited." Jacob titled his head, "what makes you think this time it's the beginning of a pandemic?"

"This outbreak is different," Morris explained. "We have more victims than in the previous outbreaks. Plus the infections are growing more severe, more systemic. It's as if the virus is increasing in virulence as it replicates in new hosts."

Jacob shot a glance at Rachel, she gave a grimace and a shrug. She's be fine. Reassured, Jacob nodded, "I'll see what I can do. Terrance? Give the keys to the SUV to Rachel, she'll need it. We'll go with Dr. Morris and Felix."

He sat down on the sofa next to Rachel and cradled her face in his hands. "I'll call you," he bit down on his lip, "if I can," he admitted softly. Pulling her into a hug, he whispered in her ear. "Talk to him Rachel, you need to settle things with him." He kissed her briefly and stood to face her father.

"Don't let her leave until she's recovered from the nausea."

Young's eyes narrowed in dislike but before he could respond, Felix swept them all from the room. The wishful look on Rachel's face re-ignited his bitterness. "So was it worth it? He shook his head in disgust.

"Don't start with me again Daddy. I love Jacob so yes …."

"Don't bull-shit me Rachel, I saw the look on your face when that so-called genius husband of yours walked out on you. You looked like a dog being left behind by its owner."

"Jacob didn't _walk out_ on me. He was called away, they needed his expertise."

"I just don't get it." her father continued as if she hadn't spoken. "You were ten years old when you decided you wanted to be an agent. Then you worked your ass off for years to get there. And _now_, just when you were starting to get somewhere, to make a name for yourself, you throw it all away? Damnit girl," Young glared at his daughter, "you had a _future_ with the Bureau. Why the hell would you give that up? Is he that good in bed?"

Rachel gasped in anger. She held on to her temper with an effort, closing her eyes and attempting to count to ten to avoid saying something she knew she'd regret. At six, she gave it up as a lost cause. She opened her eyes and stared at her father deadpan.

"In relationships there's a fine line between distant and estranged; we've always managed to stay on the distant side. So _you_ are going to apologize for that remark and then _we_ are going to pretend you never said it, or else you will never see me," her hand rested on her stomach, "or your grandchild, ever again."

Jonathan Young flushed, he knew his remark was out of line. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "But damnit, Rachel," he burst out plaintively, "I don't _understand_, I mean, he's some impractical, airy-fairy, head in the clouds academic. Maybe you just _think _you love him because you've spent so much time together?"

Despite her anger, a wry smile appeared on Rachel's face. Her father's description mirrored her own early impressions of Jacob. And his fear that what she felt for Jacob was the result of propinquity was one she had dealt with herself.

"I tried to convince myself of that," she said. "Then, I almost died. It's amazingly easy to decide what's important, what's _not_ important, when you feel your life blood leaking from your body." She looked her father in the eye, "I realized the most important thing to me was having Jacob Hood in my life, no matter what the cost. That loving him, being loved by him, was all that mattered to me."

He father had turned ashen. "What do you mean you almost died? You told me your injury wasn't that serious. As I recall, your exact words were 'it isn't anything much.'"

"I lied," she rolled her eyes. "Are you really surprised?"

Young opened his mouth to argue with his daughter but his own honesty compelled him to keep silent. He knew he had been reluctant to go to her bedside. He hadn't questioned her assessment of her injuries because it was convenient for him.

"So, what really happened?"

Rachel stared at her father with pursed lips, trying to decide how much of the debacle to share with him. She mentally shrugged, she might as well tell him everything; after all, while the episode had been hushed up as much as possible, it hadn't actually been classified. She sighed, "You better sit down."

Slowly, Rachel told her father the whole story, beginning with Sofia Lyons trying to take Ray Wynne's wife hostage. How Jacob, concerned about the woman, launched a discreet investigation into her claim that Ray Wynne had fathered and then kidnapped her child. Her being shot with the bolt of a hunting cross-bow and kidnapped by the desperate, drug-crazed woman. Realizing, as she felt herself growing weaker from blood loss, that her feelings for Jacob were real and her regret at never telling him that she loved him. How Wynne took over the manhunt and turned the Bureau against Jacob, saying he was responsible for her injury. And despite all this, how Jacob determined the truth; that Sofia _did_ have a baby by Wynne, a baby Wynne _did_ kidnap. How he located the child and tried to use it as a bargaining chip. How he got her to the hospital, saving her life.

"I was lucky," she concluded. "I'd lost a lot of blood, the bolt nicked a branch of my femoral artery. If Sofia had pulled the bolt from my leg sooner, I'd have bled out. Instead," she smiled crookedly, "that impractical, airy-fairy head in the clouds academic saved my life at the risk of his own."

Young sat silently, absorbing all that Rachel told him. He was shocked, he hadn't known how close he had come to losing his daughter permanently. While he was unhappy with the way her career ended, when all was said and done, he'd rather have a live daughter than a dead FBI agent. He came out of his reverie to discover Rachel staring at him uncertainly. He shook himself mentally, not sure if she'd believe him if he told her how much losing her would have hurt him. He grabbed at what was, to him, the most incredible part of her story.

"You're telling me he figured it all out 'cause Wynne's eyes looked funny in a picture his daughter posted online?"

Rachel grinned at him, "what can I say? It's what he does." Young shook his head, returning her grin. The brief moment of camaraderie faded as she stood, "I guess I should be going now."

"No, wait," Young took in Rachel's pallor, the way she held herself so stiffly. It was clear to him she was still suffering from the nausea and the after-effects of vomiting. "Ah, your, ah, husband made it clear that he expected me to keep you here until you were better." Young cleared his throat, "and, ah, I, ah, didn't react so well to your news. Why don't you stay? We can, uh, talk, maybe start over?" He was surprised to find he was holding his breath, waiting for her reply.

""That sounds good, but," Rachel smiled a bit at her father's crestfallen look at her _but_. "Could we postpone our talk for a bit? I really think I'd like to lie down and take a nap. I'm so tired lately."

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The sounds of an argument woke Rachel a few hours later. Blinking sleepily she came into the hallway to find her father arguing with the driver of a delivery truck. The truck bore the logo of a national office supply company.

"You can't bring that crap in here," protested Young, "I didn't order it."

"I know," the burly Hispanic driver retorted. "Like I told you, it says right here, this stuff was ordered and paid for by a…" he squinted at the receipt, "… Jason Good."

"Jacob Hood," Rachel corrected with a twitch of her lips.

The driver turned to her, grateful someone seemed to expect this delivery. "Yeah, ok, right, Jacob Hood," he smiled at Rachel, "so, lady, you wanna sign for this delivery?"

Taking the clipboard thrust at her, Rachel scribbled her initials where the man indicated. He and his assistant than proceeded to muscle a large white board and easel into the house.

"Where do ya want this?"

Over her father's objections, Rachel silently pointed to the living room. The two delivery men set up the white board and, on the way the door, handed Rachel a bag of office supplies. Rachel peeked inside; it contained markers and a dozen or so packs of post-it notes in a variety of colors.

"What's the hell is going on?" Young demanded.

"What's going on is my so-called genius husband plans to use your house as his base of operations."

At her father's look of astonishment, Rachel explained that this is how Jacob worked, they would commandeer the nearest lab or office as a workspace. If anyplace like that was unavailable, they would set up shop in one or the other's hotel room. Rachel rolled her eyes impatiently when her father expressed some discomfort about them working in each other's bedroom.

"We weren't in each other's bedrooms," she huffed, "they were anonymous hotel rooms, and anyway, our relationship was strictly professional."

Her father looked at her for a beat then his lips twitched. "Strictly professional, huh? Then how did you manage to get pregnant? Is he really that much of a genius?"

Rachel blushed, "we didn't mix business with pleasure." _'At least not often,' _she thought ruefully. But it would be best not to get into that with her father.

Her father's eyebrow rose, "well, I'm glad you didn't forget everything I taught you."

Rachel drew herself up stiffly. "We worked really hard at being discreet, not only because we knew we were breaking the rules. We also wanted to show ... everyone that what Jacob and I felt for each other, what was between us, didn't have any affect on how I did my job." Her chin came up, "Over the last year I actually got two commendations."

"Fat lot of good it did you," Young mumbled. He cleared his throat, hurrying on at the thunderous look on Rachel's face over this remark. "So, uh, you've been married that long?" A sudden thought struck him, "you were already married when you came to visit last year, weren't you?"

As he hoped, Rachel's expression changed quickly from annoyed to guilty. "Um, yeah, we were married last April. And um, well, Jacob wanted to meet you."

Jonathan Young was thankful when they were interrupted by someone banging on the front door. It would be awhile before he got the hang of talking with, rather than at, his daughter.

He answered the door to find Felix Lee with an armload of file boxes.

"Hey Mr. Young," Felix said, thrusting the boxes at him. "Would you mind taking these? I've got more in the car."

Rachel came up behind her father. "What's going on Felix, where're Jacob and Terrance?"

A big grin split Felix's face. "Why hi there little momma. How ya doing?"

Rachel scowled. "Felix, I'm not armed, but I swear to God, if you call me that one more time, I _will _find a weapon and I _will _shoot you."

Felix chuckled and hugged her. "Ok, ma'am. The Doc and Terrance will be here soon. The Doc's still busy in the lab, he wanted me to come ahead and get things set up." He spied the white board set up in the living room. "Great, it's here already. Maybe the two of you could help me get things organized?"

After quickly explaining to Rachel what he needed done Felix joined Young in bringing boxes in from his sedan. The three of them spent the remainder of the afternoon sorting the files and making lists of the forty five children who had become infected with the retrovirus. Felix painstakingly made entries on the whiteboard indicating the progression of the infection from child to child while Rachel and her father cross-checked the interview statements given by the parents to determine the connections between the children. They took a quick dinner break and were still working on the charts when Jacob and Terrance finally arrived.

"Are you ok?" Jacob sat beside Rachel, reaching out, pushing her hair back behind her ears, cupping her cheek. His eyes flitted to where her father was sitting, "everything here ok?"

Rachel smiled, "I'm, everything is fine." She leaned in to give Jacob a hug. She whispered, "We've sort of called a truce."

Jacob's lips twitched, but before he could comment, Felix claimed his attention.

"We've made good progress with these files," Felix said. He gestured toward Rachel and her father. "Thanks to my assistants here."

He quickly brought Jacob up to speed on the work they had been doing.

"Good work Felix," Jacob said approvingly. He and Terrance dove into the files, finding more links between the sick children. Soon Rachel began to yawn.

"You should go to bed," Jacob told her. "You've done more than enough to help us, you need your rest." He bit his lip, lowered his voice, "do you want to stay here? Or should we..."

"I'm fine here," Rachel whispered. She stood up, "I think I'll head off to bed now." She looked pointedly at her father, "we'll talk more tomorrow."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jonathan Young hovered uncertainly in the doorway, a tray with a coffee pot and mugs in his hands. He didn't want to intrude but at the same time he was intrigued by his, well, son-in-law's work. He was slowly beginning to realize his daughter's attraction to this detail, for this work, went beyond her feelings for the man at the center of it. He himself had become intrigued by the mystery this virus presented. For the last half-hour, though, there hadn't been any work going on at all that he could see. The three men slumped in front of the white board staring at it. He couldn't understand what the problem was. They had painstakingly listed all forty-five kids in the order they had become sick; the white board looked like some kind of family tree with lines and arrows connecting the names. He cleared his throat to catch their attention.

"Would you like some coffee?"

Jacob was roused from his musing. His lips twitched, he recognized Young was offering an olive branch along with the coffee. "Yes, that might help. We've come to a standstill here."

Putting down the tray, Young squinted at the board, "what's wrong? You seemed to have the course of the disease pretty much mapped out."

Helping himself to the coffee, Jacob shook his head in dissatisfaction. "We've hit a roadblock in tracing our patient zero. We've gotten as far as the three boys on the bottom row there, but we can't find any commonalities between them." He sighed. "We'll have to re-interview the parents tomorrow, I was hoping to avoid that."

Young's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Commonalities? What do you mean?"

Jacob looked at his father-in-law thoughtfully. He was impressed that the man seemed to be trying to reach out to him, to make amends for his earlier truculence. He tilted his head, "what do you know about the Black Death?"

"The what?" Young looked at the two FBI agents in bewilderment, _'what the hell is he talking about?'_ He was surprised to see the two smile and nod at him encouragingly. "Uh, the Black Death. The plague. Wiped out almost all of the population of Europe."

"Good." Jacob nodded approvingly. "Yes, it was one of the worst pandemics known to man, it wiped out over 30% of the world's population, an estimated 200 million people died. But even so, by studying accounts from that time, we've managed to construct a pathway. For instance, we know that the plague entered Europe at the Crimean city of Caffa. Mongol warriors laying siege to the city catapulted infected corpses into it. Genoese traders, fleeing the invaders then took the disease to Sicily and it spread north through Italy into Europe." He scowled at the whiteboard, "we've even, in the last year, been able to identity the DNA of the strains of the plague and refine the path of the different strains of the virus. If we can do all that, why can't we, working right now, right here, find our patient zero? Where in the hell this retrovirus originated?"

"Why does there have to be a patient zero? When those traders got to Sicily, I'm damn sure lots of people all got sick at once. Maybe these three kids picked this bug up independently of each other? Maybe they're _all_ patient zero?"

"Yes," Jacob explained patiently, "in Sicily lots of people did fall ill, but it was still traced back to the one ship..." He trailed off an abstracted look on his face.

Young started to speak, but he felt a hand on his arm.

"He's on Planet Hood," Terrance said. "Give him a minute."

"You're right," Jacob said, "why can't there be three patient zeros. Remember I said that we've identified the DNA of the plague? Well, it turns out there were two distinct genetic branches of the plague, which came through Europe in two waves." He turned to Terrance and Felix. "We need to do a little more work on the board."

Jacob scooped up several packs of different colored post-it notes. He gave the blue ones to Felix, the yellow ones to Terrance, and kept the green ones for himself. The three men then went back to work on the white board, re-arranging it so that the earliest victims were on top. The three boys at the top of the chain were given separate color post-it notes. Then, every subsequent victim was given a post-it note with color associated with the child who most likely had infected him or her. Jacob stood back with an exclamation of satisfaction when they finished.

For his part Young couldn't see what got Hood so excited. The board still looked the same to him, only upside down and more colorful. But the colors weren't evenly distributed. There were only a few green notes, lots of yellow ones, but for the most part, they were blue. "I don't get it?"

"You were absolutely right, there _are_ three patient zeros. Just like the Black Death, we seem to be dealing with three different strains." He walked over to the board, "see, relatively few children can be tracked back to Curtis. More can be traced to Colin, but the longest chin of victims begins with Tyler." He looked at the three men soberly, "this can't be a coincidence; we need to get back to the hospital, now. I need to do a DNA culture to confirm that we're dealing with three different strains."

Terrance starred at the board, a frown on his face. "Sir? Before we do, I think we should wake up SAC Young and let her know about this."

"Wake up Rachel? Don't be ridiculous. She needs her sleep. I'll let her know ..."

"I didn't say we should wake up Mrs. Hood," Terrance interrupted. "I said we should wake up SAC Young." He motioned to the board. "You keep telling us you don't believe in coincidences. That once is a coincidence, twice is happenstance, and three times is enemy action. Well, we have what looks like enemy action here and that's in SAC Young's wheelhouse."

Young broke in "SAC Young? What are you talking about? I thought Rachel got bounced from the Bureau? She certainly led me to ..."

Jacob raised an eyebrow, "As I recall, you're the one who jumped to that conclusion. I don't think you gave her a chance to tell _all _of her news." He reached for his cell phone, "Look, why don't I just call Frank? He can notify..."

"No!" Terrance shook his head frantically. "You can't do that. If the EAD thinks SAC Young bypassed him to report to the Director it could make things awkward for her"

"But I've, Rachel and I, always called Frank." He glared at them, "that was one of my deals with him when I started working for the FBI, that I wouldn't have to get bogged down in a lot of bullshit bureaucracy."

"That was then, sir," Terrance said. "Now, well, as your wife, SAC Young, is in a delicate position. People know you have the Director's ear, that both of you are, well, friends of his. You can't do things that make it look like she's going behind her boss's back. I mean, it would be one thing, you calling the Director, if she wasn't here, but she _is_ here and we need to follow the line of command."

"He's right Doc," Felix put in. "I know you've been able to ignore it, but the FBI loves its procedures. If the EAD thinks SAC Young is taking advantage of her relationship with the Director to cut him out of the loop, he could make things hard for her."

"What exactly is Rachel's job?" her father broke in.

"She's the Special Agent in Charge of the Counterterrorism Division." Jacob said.

"Which is why," Terrance said, "if there's any chance this may be terrorist related she needs to call the EAD for National Security."

Jacob gave a huff of exasperation, "fine, I'll go get her."

Jonathan Young couldn't understand why his daughter hadn't told him about her promotion. Unless...

"This job," he asked Felix and Terrance, "did she only get it due to… ahhh, Hood's relationship with the Director?"

Felix gaped, he couldn't believe Rachel's father could ask such a question. He would have thought a former field agent would be pleased as punch to learn his daughter had ascended to such a position. Terrance's mouth twisted in distaste, considering the garbage the old man had been spewing before he wasn't surprised. He _hoped_, when he acted fairly civil to Dr. Hood this evening that maybe SAC Young and he had more or less buried the hatchet.

"You may not be aware of it," he said through clenched teeth, "but when she was partnered with Dr. Hood, SAC Young and he had a clearance rate of 100%. A lot of that work, furthermore, dealt with matters of national security. I think _that record,_ along with her decorations and commendations account for her promotion."

"But she was just his handler," Young protested. "I mean, how much of ..."

Felix chuckled, "Mr. Young, no one on the Doc's team is _just_ anything. He expects all of us to contribute, doesn't matter what your official role is." He grinned broadly, "heck, even you had a hand in figuring what's going on here, and you can bet your bottom dollar the Doc will make sure you get the credit due you when the report gets written up."

"Me?" Young was incredulous. "What did I do?"

"You asked the right question, got him thinking on the right lines." Felix shrugged, "it might not seem like much to you but it provided a real breakthrough on this case."

Rachel entered the room yawning as she tied the sash on a ruffled and lace trimmed silk robe. Felix's eyes widened and he grinned. Before he could comment on her attire, he caught a stern look from Terrance. He quickly decided a comment on SAC Young's choice of nightwear might not be appreciated.

"So, what the hell is going on here?" Rachel asked crossly. "If you think I'm gonna wake up EAD Hazelton for some wild theory you're out of your collective minds."

"Exactly," said Jacob soothingly, "that's what I told them. It's not even a theory, it's merely a hypothesis. Why don't you go back to bed?"

Rachel glared at the group of men in front of her. "I've got a better idea. Why doesn't someone tell me what the hell is going on here?"

Sensing defeat, Jacob capitulated. He explained how he, Terrance, and Felix traced the progression of the retrovirus in Tampa. They had come to a standstill in identifying patient zero when a chance remark of her father's made him look at the relationships between the children in a different light. Rachel cocked an eyebrow at her father at this news, he shrugged his shoulders. The way the disease progressed with little or no contact between the various children, convinced Jacob they were dealing with three different strains of the virus. That there were indeed, three different patient zeros. But he couldn't be certain until DNA panels were run on the various strains.

Narrowing her eyes, she looked at the now colorful white board. "Tell me about the blue post-its."

"Um well, they would indicate the strain originating with, um, Tyler infected more children." Jacob said.

Rachel gave a huff of irritation. "Yeah, I kinda of figured that out for myself." She looked at him with narrowed eyes, "What's the significance of the check marks? Why are they only on the blue ones at the bottom?"

"That means the child died from the disease," Jacob said reluctantly. "This strain seems to be more deadly, getting worse the more children that it infects. Not only here, but overall. Morris told me that there weren't any deaths associated with the other retrovirus outbreaks.

Rachel looked at the board with wide eyes, the significance of what Jacob implied hit her immediately. It appeared as if someone was going around the country testing a biological weapon, infecting children to see which strain would prove the deadliest. She went back to the bedroom to make the call to EAD Hazelton. When Rachel emerged from the bedroom, her face was grim and she immediately began issuing orders.

"I've told the EAD I don't need any agents from my division…yet. For now, I'm co-opting the Special Science Advisor's team. Here's how I want to proceed. While Jacob is running the DNA panels, Terrance, I want you to run a background check on Dr. Morris." She held up a hand to stop Jacob's protest. "He's the only commonality we have between the outbreak here and the other ones across the country. We need to eliminate him as a suspect." She turned to Felix with a smile. "I need you, Felix, to do what you do best. Strike up conversations with the other people from the CDC, see if any of them have been with him from the beginning, if they would be viable suspects."

Felix nodded, "yes ma'am. Are you going to come with us to the hospital?"

Rachel shook her head, "Not yet, if I show up it might tip off whoever's behind this. I'll stay in the background until we have more intel."

"Makes sense," Felix agreed. "What are you going to do Agent Young?"

"Me?" Rachel smiled. "I'm gonna go back to bed."


	2. Chapter 2

Jonathan Young paused in the doorway to his kitchen a look of surprise on his face. Jacob Hood, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, looking rumpled and badly in need of a shave, stood at the stove flipping pancakes. "Uh, good morning. Where is everyone?"

Jacob looked up, his lips twitched. "Rachel's in the shower, Terrance is getting dressed, and I've sent Felix to the store to pick up a few things." He nodded toward the kitchen counter. "Coffee's ready."

Young poured himself a cup of coffee, glad to have a few minutes alone with his son-in-law. "Look, I'm ah, sorry about yesterday. I, ah, said some things I shouldn't have. I want you to know that I'm ah, well, I'm happy for Rachel."

Jacob said coolly, "Oh, so you're happy for Rachel? That she got promoted? That she didn't," he cocked his head, "how did you put it? Get thrown out on her ass, like some stupid fucking incompetent?" He continued, a note of sarcasm creeping into his voice, "actually, I'm surprised you accept her promotion at all, seeing as you seem to think she only got it due to my influence."

Young's mouth dropped open and Jacob gave a huff of annoyance. "Yes, I heard about that and I can't believe you have so little pride in your daughter, so little faith in her abilities, that you'd think she needed me to keep her job."

"I guess I deserve that." Young took a deep breath. Look, I'll be honest with. Would I have preferred Rachel to have taken a transfer the moment she realized she was falling in love with you? Left your detail before she began pursuing a personal relationship with you? Yes, I would have. Yeah," he continued belligerently, "I was surprised about the promotion, in my day it never would have happened, no matter how good the agent was. But we talked yesterday and not about her job. About the two of you. She made me see that I have a lot to thank you for." Jacob began to shake his head, but Young plowed on. "I mean it, you saved her life and now… He scrubbed at his face. "Hell, when it comes right down to it, thanks to you I've got a daughter who's alive, happier, and more content than I ever remember her being." He gave a small smile, "Plus, I'm gonna be a grandpa."

Jacob couldn't help grinning back. "Yeah, pretty great Christmas present don't you think?" At Young's look of inquiry Jacob said, "Didn't Rachel tell you? She's due Christmas day. Pretty cool, huh?"

"What's cool?" Rachel asked. She walked into the kitchen looking suspiciously at both men. She hoped they weren't continuing to argue. She had come to a bit of a détente with her father and she hadn't had a chance to explain to Jacob how things stood between them. She was hoping the two men had come to some kind of agreement on their own.

"You are." Jacob pulled her into a one armed hug. "Go sit down, breakfast is almost ready."

"Pancakes?" Rachel wrinkled her nose. "No waffles?"

"No waffle iron." Jacob informed her. "Now as soon as Felix gets back…"

"I'm here Doc." Felix bustled in, a large Starbucks cup in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. I got everything you wanted and then some." He presented the Starbucks cup to Rachel with a flourish, "For the little momma, a grande _decaf_ mochachino with whip."

Rachel rolled her eyes, but she accepted the drink gratefully.

Felix then began pulling items out of the bag, "strawberries, milk, and fresh squeezed orange juice," he smiled, "just like the doctor ordered." He winked at Rachel, "and some whipped cream like someone else would have ordered."

This time it was Jacob rolling his eyes but he made no comment as Rachel lavished whipped cream on the plate of pancakes and strawberries he set in front of her.

As they ate breakfast, Jacob, Felix and Terrance updated Rachel on their discoveries. Jacob confirmed the virus samples had three distinct DNA profiles. Seeing as there hadn't been enough time for the virus to mutate once, let alone two times, there wasn't a chance this outbreak was due to natural causes. Terrance checked up on Dr. Morris and was able to tentatively clear him of suspicion. He hadn't previously visited any of the sites of the viral outbreaks and his financial records looked clean. Furthermore, he seemed strictly apolitical, there were no records of political contributions or any social media posts supporting any political position.

Felix, on the other hand, thought he might have hit pay-dirt. Wandering around the labs, he had stuck up a conversation with Nicole Sanders, Dr. Morris' research assistant. During the course of the conversation, Felix had complimented her on the colorful silk scarf she wore around her neck. He was surprised when the woman flushed, and quickly draped it around her head. She explained the scarf was a hijab; she had recently converted to Islam and wasn't quite use to all of the conventions.

Rachel's head snapped up, "what, she's a Muslim? What brought about the conversion?"

Felix shot Rachel an exasperated look. He had asked the woman that very question. It turned out she had converted within the last year. What he found significant is that she had converted to please her fiancé. A quick check found that Sander's fiancé was of Jordanian decent and actually spent time in Jordan the previous year. "And," Felix said, "Guess what he does for a living?" He smiled smugly at the inquiring looks around the table, "he runs an import company back in Atlanta."

"That's hardly meaningful," Jacob protested. "Jordan is one of the most stable countries in the Mideast, they're allies of ours."

"So's Saudi Arabia," snapped Rachel, "and bin Laden was a Saudi. We need to look at him." She paused and reached for her cell phone, "I want to hit him hard and quick, I'm going to have one of my people bring him here for questioning. We can play him off against the girlfriend."

"You can't do that!" Jacob objected. "I don't care what his back ground is, he's an American citizen, you can't just swoop down him and drag his to another state for questioning."

Jacob looked around the table expecting to see his outrage reflected in the faces around him. Instead the others were nodding agreement to Rachel's plan. He sighed, "Don't tell me, the damned Patriot Act."

"You said it yourself, this outbreak is deadly and it's not natural. We have to treat this as a matter of national security," Rachel said, "so yes, I will use all the authority the Patriot Act gives me to get the job done."

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Several hours later Rachel sat starring glumly at Adnan Haddad, Nicole Sander's fiancé. She was beginning to believe she had wasted precious time questioning him; that he and his fiancée most likely had nothing to do with the situation in Tampa. Haddad's account of himself was consistent from start to finish.

"الذي أنت تعمل ل ؟ _Who are you working for?_" she snapped.

Haddad looked at her blankly. "What? Uh..., I'm sorry, but I don't speak Arabic."

Rachel raised an eyebrow, "Really? Didn't that make things awkward during your visit to Jordan?"

She shot several rapid fire questions at him about this visit. She kept up the pace of her questions as she didn't want to give him time to think up any lies. His answers, though, were straightforward; he merely accompanied his grandfather on a sentimental journey. His grandfather's brother had died and the "old man" wanted to go to the funeral. His role was to carry the baggage and make sure his grandfather took his medications.

"You admit you have family ties in Jordan?" Rachel pounced.

"Well, duh," Haddad replied. "Like I said, my grandparents emigrated from Jordan fifty years ago. It was the first time I'd been there and trust me it will be the last." At Rachel's disbelieving look, he challenged her. "Go on, look up our passport, visa information. My granddad paid for visas good for two months. But the country wasn't what he remembered, we left after two weeks."

Flicking her eyes to the one-way mirror, Rachel signaled for Felix to confirm this information. While she waited she continued to hammer away at Haddad, asking about his business, his family, his religious beliefs.

"You are such a fucking bigot," Haddad finally exploded. "What, I have brown skin, my people came here from the Mideast, so naturally I'm a terrorist? I can't believe you people, you're such fucking idiots."

Rachel flushed at the accusation. "This had nothing to do with your skin color. Don't you dare play the race card with me. You recently traveled to a county with close ties to Syria, a known terrorist haven, you run an import-export business, you're a devout Muslim, and your girlfriend just happens to be at the center of what looks to be a test of a biological weapon."

"You're nuts, you know that? You've taken my life, turned it upside down and backwards just to suit your damned theory. Everything you said is kinda right, but you've put the worst possible spin on it. Yeah, ok, Jordan is next door to Syria. But it's also next door to Israel, which, as far as I know, is still an ally of ours. And I don't run an import-export business." He snorted, "I sell rugs and high end furniture."

"Oriental rugs," Rachel interrupted, "which means you have ties to business interests in the Mideast."

Haddad gave a bark of laughter. "You obviously know jack-shit about rugs. _Oriental_ rugs aren't made in the Mideast. Yeah, Iran and Afghanistan are still big producers but it's a pain in the ass to deal with those countries. The genuine rugs I sell come from Eastern Europe." He smirked a bit, "but in reality most of the rugs I sell are _imported_ from North Carolina. The market for high-end rugs has dried up in the last couple of years. I get machine made rugs along with the furniture I sell right here in the good old U.S. of A.

As for the rest," he shot Rachel a challenging glare, "I'm willing to bet I'm as good a Muslim as you are a Christian. Tell me, when was the last time _you_ went to church? Christmas? Easter?" He shook his head, "I'm a _cultural_ Muslim. I'm not devout, I like an occasional bacon cheeseburger and a glass of wine at dinner. I go to mosque on the holy days, that's about it."

"Then why was it so important to you that your fiancée convert?"

Haddad rubbed his face with his hands. "Fuck. Is that what started all this? Look, haven't you …I don't know? Been with a guy your parents didn't like?" He grimaced, "I am so gonna kill my mother. My mom," he explained patiently, "she is devout. She likes Nicole ok, but, shit, it was killing her that her baby was marrying outside the faith. So Nicole decided to convert." He looked at Rachel helplessly, "I know you won't believe it, but as God, Allah, whatever, is my witness, Nicole's and my only interest in her converting to Islam was to get my mom off my back."

Rachel bit her lip; a muscle in her cheek quivered. Without realizing it, Haddad had come up with the one story that could convince her of his innocence. As much as she hated to admit it, it looked as if Haddad and Nicole were a dead end. He had told a consistent story from beginning to end. She was willing to bet Felix could confirm the provenance of the rugs and furniture he sold; why tell lies that would be easy to disprove?

"You're right, everything about you, your actions, could be looked at in two ways, and I chose the worst case scenario." She held up her hand to stop Haddad's outburst. "But I won't apologize, I'm dealing with a matter of national security here, a very real threat to our country and I have to vigorously explore every avenue." She rose to leave the interrogation room, "I hope you can understand that. But you've convinced me you have nothing to do this. I'll have an agent arrange for your transportation back to Atlanta." She turned at the door and gave Haddad a twisted smile, "If it's any consolation, my dad wasn't thrilled with my choice of husband either."

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Dinner time found everyone once again gathered around the table at Young's house. Unlike at breakfast, discouragement rather than anticipation filled their faces. All of their leads had failed to pan out. Haddad and his girlfriend were officially dead ends, his story had checked out in every way. The reports on the DNA panels of the other outbreaks were inconclusive. While each of the other outbreaks had a distinct DNA strain, they all matched one of the three viruses' active in Tampa. With all of the people at the CDC cleared, they couldn't decide where to go next.

"How about the hospitals?" Terrance offered half-heartedly. "Maybe someone..."

"Nah," Felix pushed his food around on his plate. "I've checked everyone connected to the patients; the doctors, nurses, heck, even the orderlies and janitors. None of 'em are new to the area. They couldn't have any connection to the other outbreaks."

"What about the labs the pediatrician's offices used?" Jacob asked. "Did they all use the same one?"

Felix looked at him blankly. "Labs, what are you talking about? I thought the offices did all that stuff in-house?"

Jacob shook his head and explained that doctor's offices only did the most rudimentary testing in-house. For most of the blood work, cultures, or urine analysis, they would send the samples to an independent lab. In larger cities there were hundreds of such facilities.

Swearing softly, Felix pulled out his cell phone and left the table. It was going to take some time to track down which labs were involved in the recent epidemic.

Jacob watched him go with a frown. "We'll have to go back to the patients. We must have missed something, there has to be some connection between them."

"But Doctor Hood," Terrance objected, "We've gone over those kids and their routines with a fine-tooth comb. They don't have anything in common. Not schools, not sports, not scouts, nothing! They don't meet up anywhere." He sighed, "I figure whoever's spreading this around just picked a bunch of kids at random. It's another dead-end."

"It couldn't have been totally random," Jacob said. "Yes, the spread of the viruses were random. That depended on the activities of the, well, host. But whoever is behind this is a trained virologist. So he or she had to carefully select those hosts, to make sure the virus spread."

"What do you mean?" Terrance asked. "I mean, kids get sick, they pass stuff around. Wouldn't one kid do as well as another?"

"No. Say you infected a child who _already _was sick, you'd run the risk that they'd be out of circulation, not around other children during the time they were contagious." He shrugged, "or maybe you'd infect a child who was home-schooled, thereby limiting the number of other children who were exposed." He shook his head decisively, "No, this outbreak was clearly designed to determine which of these viruses is the most virulent. Whoever is behind it would want to make sure all three viruses started out on a level playing field, so to speak. If I was designing this experiment, I'd look over a crop of children carefully before making my selection."

"Which brings me back to my point," Terrance said. "It's a dead-end, whoever did this could have selected them from anywhere. These kids don't have anything in common."

Jonathan Young broke the silence that descended on the table at Terrance's words. "If the kids don't have anything in common, how about the parents? Especially the moms."

Jacob looked at him quizzically. "Why? Why the moms?"

Young tilted his head, "I've seen the pictures of those kids, the ones you're calling 'patient zeros' and they all look kinda young to me. About 5 or 6?"

Jacob nodded in confirmation.

"Yeah, uh, well, kids that age, they don't have what you'd call independent lives. They pretty much go where their parents take 'em."

"With all due respect, Mr. Young," Terrance said, "we never thought they were driving themselves to school or ..."

"Don't get smart with me young man," Young snapped. "All due respect, my ass. What I'm getting at is that none of you are parents," his eyebrow rose as he looked over at his daughter, "or at least not yet. Believe me, when you've got little kids, you don't just take them to their stuff, you take 'em to yours too." He looked at Jacob, "are your three patient zeros only children?" At Jacob's nod of confirmation, Young smiled. "Yeah, that makes it pretty damn certain. Look, when Rachel was little, I'd pick her up at daycare but we didn't always go straight home. If I wasn't carting her to some lesson or other, we'd be stopping at the store, the drycleaners, wherever I needed to run an errand. It was easier to take her along than run the risk of being late to daycare by doing my errands first. You need to check with the moms, see if they have anything in common."

"Why the moms?" Rachel was annoyed. "Why not the fathers?"

Her father smiled reminiscently. "Oh honey, you don't remember what it was like. Even at your karate classes, I was the one of the few dads in the waiting room." He shook his head as she opened her mouth to protest, "Don't tell me it's different these days. Hell, if I go to the store during rush hour, for every dad I see alone with kids, I see four moms." His eyebrows rose, "it might not be right, or fair, but it's still the woman whose life changes the most when a couple has kids."

"Your father is right," Jacob said. "We need to begin interviewing the mothers, now, see if their paths cross."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next day was extremely busy for the team. Felix discovered that all of the pediatric practices involved used the same lab, Amtech Diagnostics. He came up with two viable suspects. Both men had begun working in the lab within the past month. The only problem was that neither came from areas where there had been an outbreak. He called his contacts to begin deep background checks on both men. Jacob and Terrance had an equally fruitful day. They carefully took all three mothers through their movements in the week before their children had fallen ill. They were jubilant to discover that all three women frequented the same health club.

"Now all we have to do," Terrance said when the group had reconvened to share their results, "is to find some connection between your guys and our health club."

"I still don't see it." Felix was still skeptical. "It's the moms who belong to the health club, how could the kids have gotten infected there?"

"Drop in daycare" said Terrance. "All of the kids spent time there in the week before they got sick."

"Still," Felix persisted. "How come they didn't say anything until now? That they knew each other?"

As Jacob explained, the women _didn't_ know each other. The health club was one of the largest in the area. In addition, the women all used different parts of the facility. Mrs. Fort, Colin's mom, used the weights and other equipment; Mrs. Glenn, Tyler's mom, was a swimmer; she used the pool exclusively. Mrs. Novak, Curtis's mom, attended yoga classes at the club. She would come in, take a class and leave; she never went near the locker rooms or the equipment area. The only point of commonality was the daycare. They never knew the full names of any of the other children their sons interacted with while they were exercising and they didn't recall ever seeing any of the other mothers at the club.

Now all they had to do was connect either of their two suspects to the same club. They ran into a roadblock immediately. Neither man was listed as a member of the club.

"That doesn't matter," Rachel insisted. "They could have come in as a guest of a member or maybe they used an assumed name, got access under some kind of temporary system, claiming they were thinking of joining." She decided to bring all three women in and have them look at pictures of the men.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Fort said. "But none of them look familiar." The other mothers murmured agreement.

Rachel fanned out the array of pictures. Aside from her two suspects, there were pictures of four agents. All of the men were Caucasian, late twenties to early thirties, and clean cut looking. She urged the women to look at the pictures again.

"I know you're worried about your children," she said. "I can't imagine what you're all going through." Her hand unconsciously cupped her stomach. "If it were my child, I don't think I could concentrate on anything. But it's important for you to really look at these pictures. Have you seen any of these men around the club?"

The three women hesitated, and shrugging, bent over the pictures once again. Mrs. Fort and Mrs. Glenn were soon shaking their heads once again. They murmured that they couldn't be sure, that none of the men looked familiar. But Mrs. Novak hesitated, her hand hovering over the picture of one of the suspects, Tim Cogwell.

"This man, he does look kind of familiar." She looked at Rachel, "do you think he's the one who hurt our children?"

"I don't know," she replied. "But I promise you I'll find out. Where do you think you saw him?" She held her breath, hoping the woman would put her suspect near the daycare room.

"I'm pretty sure I've seen him around the club," Mrs. Novak said. "I generally go to the club on Saturdays, I'm pretty sure I've seen him hanging around the parking lot."

Rachel let out her breath with a sigh of disappointment. While this put Cogwell at the health club it didn't connect him to the children. She thanked the women for coming in and promised to keep them up to date on the investigation.

"What now ma'am?" Felix wanted to know. "Want me to go to the club, show this picture around?"

Rachel chewed her lip and thought. Even without the deep background check, they managed to eliminate one suspect. Now they needed to concentrate on finding out as much as they could about Cogwell and Felix was the man for that job. His computer skills were superior to Terrance's. She and Jacob, along with Terrance, could check out the club. She explained how she wanted to proceed and she was surprised when Jacob demurred.

"No, you and Terrance go to the club. I'll go with Felix, he'll need my expertise to evaluate our suspect's background, to see if he's capable of this kind of work. I think it might be a good idea for us to drop in at Amtech, talk to a few co-workers."

Terrance objected immediately. To his shock SAC Young over-ruled him.

"It's ok Terrance. Felix is capable of acting as Jacob's bodyguard in this case." She pursed her lips. "I don't like the idea of you going to Amtech though, I don't want you tipping them off."

Jacob huffed impatiently. "This isn't my first rodeo Rachel. I think I can ask a few discreet questions without tipping anyone off. Felix and I can come up with an adequate cover story to explain my interest in the place."

"Yeah," chimed in Felix. "I'm thinking, we could say we need to see their records," the big man shrugged, "after all, they did a lot of the testing, stands to reason we'd want to double-check their work."

"Exactly," Jacob said. "That gives us an excuse not only to poke around not only in their records but to talk to all the techs, not just Cogwell."

Rachel reluctantly agreed. They were leaving when Felix's phone rang. He excused himself to take the call. His mouth dropped open and he began frantically waving to Rachel and Terrance, indicating they should wait.

"What is it Felix?" Rachel was curious as to what was causing the big man's agitation.

"Major change in plans," Felix announced. "We need to pick up Cogwell ASAP."

At her look of surprise he explained that the phone call had been from his contact at the Social Security Administration. His initial investigation of Cogwell had found only limited information about the man; his employment application at Amtech listed only one former employer, a lab at the teaching hospital at the University of Alabama Medical School. He figured the easiest way to track the man's employment history was to check his record with Social Security. The problem was, according to the Social Security Administration, the job at Amtech was the first job Cogwell had ever held. They had no records of payments from any other employer. At Felix's request, they did some more digging; they discovered the Social Security number he was using was only issued five years previously.

"I wonder," Jacob said, "if this is another pattern?"

Rachel pulled out her own cell phone and crisply gave detailed instructions to her administrative assistant. Soon, FBI agents from the Counter-terrorism Division were descending on labs in the other cities affected by these outbreaks to discover if any of them had employees quit shortly after the epidemic was discovered. Terrance and Jacob were to check out the health club while she awaited word from her people. Meanwhile, Felix, accompanied by a couple of local LEOs was detailed to arrest Cogwell.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Rachel scribbled notes as her admin summarized the reports from her agents. She hung up, her face grim. Jacob had been correct, this was another pattern. Agents discovered in each city a lab which handled the majority of the tests during the retrovirus outbreak had an employee who quit shortly after the CDC left town. Armed with the photo of Cogwell, they were able to confirm that Cogwell was the former employee. In each city, he obtained employment under a false identity. Rachel's concern stemmed from the fact it wasn't merely a fake name Cogwell used. He had a complete false identity; birth certificate, driver's license, bank account, credit cards, the works. Things it was supposed to be impossible to fake since the precautions installed after 9/11. She was afraid Cogwell was a part of a highly organized criminal or terrorist organization.

Rachel was hunched over her noted, planning her interrogation of Cogwell when Felix burst into the small office she had commandeered.

"Ma'am," Felix said breathlessly, "you're not gonna believe what I found. I ran Cogwell's prints thorough IAFIS…"

"He's got a record?" Rachel asked.

"No, his prints were there 'cause he worked for the military. Well, not the military exactly, but DARPA. His real name is James Daggun and he got bounced from DARPA for," Felix squinted at his notes, "violating research protocols, whatever that means."

"There's one way to find out," Rachel said as she reached for the phone. "Colonel Brooks should be able to answer that question for us."

It took a while for Rachel to get in touch with Brooks. When she did, the man was cagey. He would only confirm Daggun's association with DARPA was severed when he refused to alter the course of his research.

"Like I told you before Agent Young," he growled into the phone, "I expect my people to push the envelope, but there are certain lines I won't condone crossing. Daggun had a problem with that so I yanked his funding." He was silent for a moment, "let me get back to you."

Rachel had barely ended her call with Brooks when Jacob and Terrance arrived. Their visit to the health club had been a success. The young woman working the reception desk recognized the picture of Cogwell. She told them he was the boyfriend of another club employee, one of the women who worked in the club's daycare room. An interview with the tearful woman revealed how Cogwell managed to infect the children.

Ashley refused to believe them at first. She was adamant that "Timmy" would never hurt anyone, let alone a child. In his defense she said he was constantly playing with the children and bringing in small treats for them. Jacob pounced on that remark. His careful questions led to Ashley remembering that Timmy had brought in lollipops for the children the week before the first case showed up in a pediatrician's office.

Rachel and her team where debating how to use this new information in Daggun's interrogation when they were interrupted by a computer specialist from the Tampa office. When Felix brought in Cogwell, he also brought in his computer. The specialist found some deeply encrypted emails from and to Cogwell. She traced the emails; while they bounced around the world she could state with a high degree of certainty the people Cogwell was emailing were in Russia. The emails themselves were a bit dicey. She cracked the encryption, but the emails were not only encrypted but also in code. She hadn't fully deciphered them but to her it looked as they were talking about money.

"Bastard," Jacob exclaimed. "He was going to sell the retrovirus." He looked at Rachel somberly, "It's a clear case of bio-terrorism."

Rachel chewed her lip. "Not exactly, things are tense between us and Russia but officially they're still allies. The State Department doesn't consider them a state sponsor of terrorism."

She overrode Jacob's protest, "but what really worries me are the cover stories he managed to produce. They're damned good, good as anything the Bureau could cook up for an undercover op. It costs money to come up with paperwork, documents that good. Plus," she frowned, "where in the hell did he get the money to work on the virus?" She looked at Jacob doubtfully, "Wouldn't it be expensive to set up a lab?"

Jacob considered the matter. "Well, yes, it would be. Even if he's an academic, he'd need an outside source of funding."

"He was getting money from DARPA but he got kicked out of the program." Rachel said.

Jacob's eyebrows rose. "Really? That would make it even harder for him to find funding from a legitimate source." At the puzzled looks on the faces of the others Jacob shrugged. "The scientific community is small. You said that Cogwell got kicked out of DARPA? I'm guessing that means they refused to fund his research not because it wasn't viable but because they thought there was something wrong with it or with him. Word would get around, he's have a hard time getting grants."

Terrance still didn't understand, "but wouldn't whoever he worked for fund him?"

"Even the private sector relies on grants, I mean, that's what DARPA essentially is, a grant program. If he was in academia, if he lost his ability to attract outside funding, it could affect his appointment." He shrugged again. "When I was at Stanford it seemed I spent almost as much time chasing grants as I did in the lab."

"These Russians then," Rachel said slowly, "maybe they're his source of funding? Maybe he wasn't selling the virus _to_ them, maybe he was developing it _for_ them?"

"It's a distinct possibility," Jacob agreed.

"Oh yeah!" Felix said, excited. "Him working for the Russians would explain how he got such good fake ID's." Comprehension dawned on Rachel and Jacob's faces but Terrance looked puzzled. Felix explained, "Last summer we went to Idaho to look into possible terrorist activity. Well, that turned out to be a bust, but we stumbled across some identity thieves. Hunter, the FBI computer guy I worked with, told me the Russians were big players in the identity theft business."

Rachel gathered up her the dossiers she had compiled about Daggun's activities under each of his aliases. They, along with what Felix, Jacob, and Terrance had discovered gave her the wedges she needed to crack him. She went into the interrogation room and sat quietly for a few minutes staring at Daggun. When the man began to shift nervously in is chair, she spoke.

"Well Mr. Cogwell, do you have anything to say for yourself." She smiled inwardly as the man smirked and visibly relaxed at being addressed by his false name. "Or should I call you Jim Hellier, or Joe Honnick, or maybe Steve Laster?" As she said each name she laid a bulging file folder on the table. "Or maybe I should call you James Daggun."

Rachel smiled in satisfaction as Daggun's smirk left his face and he visibly paled. "You're not as smart as you think you are. We know all about you and your experiments."

Daggun tried to bluff. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm merely a lab tech." He flicked a finger at the folders. "I've had to change my name because I keep getting black-balled by the idiot who run DARPA."

Rachel arched an eyebrow. "You mean Colonel Brooks?"

Red patches appeared on Daggun's cheeks and his voice began to shake with anger. "Yes, that Neanderthal. He wasn't content with withdrawing my funding, he's actively kept me from obtaining a research position. I've been reduced to taking low-level jobs in labs."

Rachel pounced. "Really? Just name changes? So how do you explain that each one of your new names has a brand new social security number to go with it?"

Daggun stonewalled. No matter how hard Rachel hammered him Daggun kept to his story. He was now a low level lab tech. The many changes in names were because, as soon as he got settled in a new job Brooks would contact his employers and tell them lies about his time with DARPA. He never asked for new Social Security numbers, they issued them every time he changed his name. He assumed they knew what they were doing. He was totally innocent of any charges. It was Jacob who provided the final wedge to break Daggun. He had been watching the interrogation thorough the one-way window. He eyed the man thoughtfully. The only times Daggun had shown any real emotion was when Rachel told him he wasn't as smart as he thought and when Colonel Brooks was mentioned. His lips twitched as an idea formed in his head.

Rachel looked up, annoyed when Jacob entered the interrogation room. Before she could say anything Jacob spoke.

"Excuse me Agent Young, I'm Dr. Jacob Hood, the Special Science for the FBI and I think you're barking up the wrong tree." Jacob smiled inwardly as Daggun sat up and his eyes widened a bit. He thought the man would be familiar with his name, his work. "I seriously doubt Mr. Daggun is involved in this case."

"That's right," Daggun was smug. "I've been trying to tell you that, I don't do any research anymore."

Jacob kept his focus on Rachel, he acted as if the man hadn't spoken. "I've looked into what he was working on for DARPA and spoken to Colonel Brooks. Frankly, his work wasn't that good. There's no way he's capable of engineering the virus we isolated." As he expected Daggun erupted. Rachel had to intervene as he lunged at Jacob.

"That's **Dr**. Daggun," he snarled as Rachel slammed him back into his chair. "You have a lot of nerve, criticizing me, you, you has-been. You're nothing but a government hack, you haven't done any original research in years. You're too stupid to realize you're not dealing with a virus, I developed three separate viral profiles"

Jacob's eyebrows went up. "A has-been? Well, I'd rather be a has-been than a gun-for-hire."

"I've had to go to unconventional sources for my funding, thanks to that bastard Brooks" Daggun said, "but I'm a scientist!"

"A scientist?" Jacob said, "No, you're nothing more than a murderer. You deliberately infected those children, knowing the viruses would grow more virulent as they progressed, that some of those children would die."

"Big deal," scoffed Daggun. "Do you know how many children die in this country every year? Thousands. What's the big deal about three or four more? What's important is that I've proved my theory of progressive viral infections."

Rachel had to intervene again, this time to prevent Jacob from attacking Daggun. "Bastard! Those children mattered. They mattered to their parents and they mattered as human beings. You have no idea of what potential you've destroyed. You had no right."

"That's enough!" Rachel declared. She glared at Daggun. "You may be a murderer but frankly I'm more interested in your connections with the Russians. Right now I could charge you with treason. Cooperate with me and give up your contacts and I'll make sure you aren't charged with the max."

Daggun paled. "Give them up? Are you crazy? They'll kill me."

Rachel silenced Jacob with a lift of her eyebrow. She shrugged and stood up, gathering her file folders together. "Fine, I'm sure we'll eventually be able to track them down without your help." She smiled as Daggun relaxed. "But as I'm sure you remember I not only read you your rights before I began this interrogation. I informed you it would be recorded. So I'll just turn over that recording to the two Tampa detectives outside. It'll really go over big with the jury in your murder trial. Oh, and by the way, you might want to consider that Florida not only has the death penalty, they actually use it. Frequently."

She leaned over the table. "So basically you have two choices, cooperate with me and hope to hell I can keep you alive or face certain death at the hands of the State of Florida."

Defeated, Daggun agreed to cooperate.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jonathan Young shook his head in disgust. "This whole thing, those poor kids dying, all because some goddamned scientist wanted to prove a theory?"

"Not exactly," Jacob was irritated. "I'd say it's because a sociopath wanted to prove a point. Not merely about the virus, but also that Brooks, DARPA were wrong in not supporting him."

Young merely snorted and turned to his daughter, "So what's gonna happen to him? You charging him with treason?"

Rachel shook her head. "No State had a heart attack when that was even suggested. After all,

Russia is an ally of ours. Justice wasn't hot to charge him with treason anyway; they think that would bring to much attention to the case. Instead he'll be charged under the Bioterrorism Act." She shook her head, smiling at the look on her father's face. "Welcome to my life dad, we try to downplay the threats as much as possible to avoid panic." Her voice hardened, "I've seen to it he's charged with three counts since there were three separate strains of the virus, if he's sentenced to successive sentences he'll be spending the rest of his life in a super max prison."

The doorbell rang and Terrance, smiling at Mr. Young, indicated that he still was acting as doorman. They were all surprised when he returned with Colonel Brooks.

"SAC Young, Dr. Hood," Brooks nodded to them "I want to thank you. Seems like you've helped me out of a tight spot."

Jacob looked at the man skeptically, "What can we do for you? I find it hard to believe that you came all this way for a simple thank you."

A ghost of a smile flitted across Brooks' face. "Direct as always Dr. Hood. It's what I like about you." He turned somber, "but you're right, I'm not here to say thank you. I'm here to ask for your help once again."

Jacob was intrigued, "How so?"

"My people have located the lab Daggun used to synthesis his viruses." Brooks explained. "They also found his lab notes. I'd like you to go over his stuff. Make the judgment of what should be saved and destroy the rest."

"I suppose my question is the same as last time, why me? Your people can't have a conflict of interest in the case."

"My people are used to pushing the envelope." Brooks shrugged, "but what I need now is someone who has the good sense to know when it's time to put on the brakes. Frankly, I can't think of anyone I'd trust more to look at Daggun's work and tell me honestly if there is any possible benefit in it."

Jacob looked at Rachel, the indecision written on his face. This was the type of work he enjoyed most, the reason he joined the FBI; making sure science was used for the good of mankind, not for destructive or harmful purposes. But he and Rachel had taken time off to visit her father, to make peace with the man. He hated to leave with the situation not entirely resolved.

She gave a small smile and nodded her head. "Go ahead, I was going to have to cut our trip short anyway. I need to get back to D.C. to brief the SAC of the Cyber Division. They'll be taking the lead on the hunt for Daggun's Russian contacts."

Jacob was grateful the decision was easy to make. "Ok, I'll go and take a look at Daggun's work, his lab. When do we leave?

A real smile broke out on Brooks' face. "That's one of the perks of working for the military Dr. Hood. We don't fly commercial. We leave as soon as you can get you things together."

"Great," Felix was enthusiastic. "I'll go and ..." He broke off as he saw Rachel shaking her head.

"I'm going to need to borrow you Felix," she explained. "Jacob won't need you, there's no investigation involved, no re-con or support needed. But I'd like to use you and your contacts in Cyber to get this Daggun investigation off the ground."

Jacob and Terrance quickly got their things together. Jacob kissed Rachel goodbye and whispered that he'd call her as often as possible. Terrance rolled his eyes at their obvious reluctance for Jacob to go off on a case alone. He remembered, with a touch of impatience, all of the _advice _SAC Young had given him, on how to handle the good doctor.

"Don't worry ma'am, I'll bring him back without a scratch."

Rachel's eyebrow rose, "Damn straight, unless you want matching bruises."

Terrance winced and smiled weakly.

Felix threw an arm around Rachel's shoulders. "And don't you worry Doc, I'll look after the little ...oof!" He winced in pain as Rachel drove her elbow into his side.

She grinned at his look of reproach. "I did warn you."

Rachel kept what Jacob called her "Special Agent Young persona" in place until he and the others drove away. She then heaved a sigh and let her shoulder slump. She shook her head at Felix's look of concern. In order to have a private moment to say farewell to her father, she asked Felix to get her bag from the house. Turning to her father she began to apologize.

"Daddy, I am sorry. It looks like we're never going to have a normal visit. I hate to leave but I really need to head back to D.C., get this investigation going."

Jonathan Young hugged his daughter. He was FBI, he understood sometimes the job came before family. "That's ok honey. Something tells me that for you and that husband of yours, this is normal."

Rachel gave a small laugh, "you may be right." She looked up at her father shyly, "Um, maybe we'd have a better chance at normal if you came to see us?"

Young felt a surge of hope at this olive branch. Then he looked at Rachel doubtfully, was this a real offer or one of those vague 'let's get together sometimes' offers people made when they really didn't want to see you. He decided to force the issue.

"Um, maybe I can come up for Christmas."

To his dismay, Rachel shook her head. "Not Christmas." Before he could stiffen up, she continued. "You'll miss all the fun if you wait until then. I mean, don't you want to be there when your first grandchild is born?"

"But I thought, I mean, your husband, uh, Jacob? He told me you were due Christmas Day."

Rachel gave a snort of laughter. "And he didn't treat you to the lecture on how only 3.9% of babies are born on their due date? You should come up the week before, or," she looked at him thoughtfully, "come up for Thanksgiving and stick around."

Young raised an eyebrow, Rachel was being a lot more gracious than he had a right to expect, considering his behavior originally. He hoped once she had the chance to talk it over with her husband the offer wouldn't be withdrawn.

"I'd like that," he said simply.

Felix hustled out with her bag and began urging her toward the SUV. She seemed reluctant, prolonging her goodbyes to her father. He was finally pulling out of the driveway when Jonathan Young called out for them to stop.

"Hey, I almost forgot, what the hell should I do with all that crap in my living room?"

Rachel leaned out the window, "oh, right. I've have someone from the Tampa office come by to pick up the file boxes."

"Yeah, but what about the easel and whiteboard? And all those office supplies? What the hell am I gonna do with them?"

Rachel shrugged, "I don't know. Keep 'em for when the grandkids come? You could play school."

With a final wave, she and Felix drove away leaving her father speechless. A grin spread across his face as he realized he wasn't sure which was the bigger shock; Rachel' blithe assumption he would be part of her kids' lives or that she was already planning on a second child. But whichever it was, it looked as if his retirement years had suddenly got a lot more interesting.


End file.
